Isan's Karmic Consciousness

Banshō's commentary on the case

A monk asked Yun'an, “The Huayan Treatise takes the affliction of abiding ignorance itself to be the unmoving wisdom of all buddhas. Its principle is extremely deep and subtle, altogether difficult to understand.” Yun'an said, “This is most evident and easy to understand.” At the time a child was sweeping. Yun'an called, and the child turned his head. Yun'an pointed and said, “Is this not unmoving wisdom?” Kyōzan's calling the monk and the monk's turning were precisely this moment. Yun'an then asked the child, “What is your buddha-nature?” The child looked left and right, bewildered, and left. Yun'an said, “Is this not the affliction of abiding ignorance? If you can understand it, you become buddha right now.”² The child's bewilderment is no different from deliberation. The affliction of abiding ignorance is likewise the same as karmic consciousness, vast and obscure. Yun'an and Kyōzan test monks and examine people with such precise aim. Banshō's seeing is different: through and through, both child and monk are unmoving wisdom; from the beginning, Yun'an and Kyōzan are karmic consciousness, vast and obscure.¹ If a person can distinguish this, that person sees Tendō directly. Hyakujō ascended the hall. Just as the assembly gathered, he drove them all down at once with his staff. Then he called, “Assembly!” They turned their heads. Hyakujō said, “What is it?” Communities everywhere call this Hyakujō's “descending-the-hall phrase.” It too rewards close investigation. Lord Jing, Wang Anshi, said, “I obtained one phrase from Seppō and became chief minister.” People repeatedly asked him for instruction. He said, “That old fellow was always saying to people, ‘What is it?’”³ Wanshi's first line versifies calling the monk, his turning, and “What is it?” In 識我不, the graph 不 is read fou, meaning “not”; the sense is “Do you recognize me or not?” Kyōzan uses a hand without semantic meaning to strike a house off guard. If the monk had glimpsed it in the light of a spark from stone, this could be called recognizing the emperor in a bustling market. If instead he fails to come through deliberation, dimly the moon among vines again becomes a hook. Ōbaku ascended the hall. Just as the assembly gathered, he drove them all down at once with his staff. Then he called, “Assembly!” They turned their heads. Ōbaku said, “The moon resembles a bent bow: little rain, much wind.” The verse uses the sense of this. Shishishan asked Kyōzan while they watched the moon, “When the moon is pointed, where does its round appearance go? When it is round, where does its pointed appearance go?” Shishi said, “When pointed, the round appearance is hidden. When round, the pointed appearance remains.” Ungan said, “When pointed, the round appearance remains. When round, the pointed appearance is absent.” Dōgo said, “When pointed, it is not pointed; when round, it is not round.” “Becomes a hook” is the pointed appearance. Luo Binwang's poem says, “Since it can be round like a mirror, why need it bend like a hook?” The Huayan school calls this “the gate in which hidden and manifest are both accomplished.” Buddhist teaching also says that bodhisattvas of the tenth stage see nature as though viewing the moon through gauze. The phrase might therefore be read “gauze-moon.” Yet Li Bai's poem says, “The vine-moon hangs as a morning mirror; pine wind sounds the night strings.” The graph “vine” carries the fuller meaning here.⁴ Tendō uses a hazy new moon partly hidden in smoky vines. Though it is not round and bright, its horn already shows. This versifies the monk's half-light, half-dark place, as if present and as if absent. Banshō greatly resembles a salt-and-iron judge. Tendō's needlework is deep and fine: if the thread were not kept unbroken, the brocade pattern could hardly be completed. Senior Mi was walking with Dongshan when they saw a white rabbit pass. Mi said, “How excellent!” Dongshan asked, “How so?” Mi said, “Like a commoner appointed chief minister.” Dongshan said, “At your great age, you make such a statement?” Mi asked, “What would you say?” Dongshan said, “For generations wearing official hairpins and tassels, he has temporarily fallen into decline.”⁵ Sima Xiangru's “Rhapsody on the Imperial Park” says, “A child worth a thousand gold does not sit beneath the edge of the hall.” Ruan Ji habitually rode in a rough cart; whenever he met a road's end, he wept bitterly and turned back. Banshō says: if one can take the road home, one can turn the body and return to the father. Have you not heard, “Turn illumination back in one thought and at once equal original attainment”? If so, why does the unmoving wisdom of all buddhas, upon reaching the portion of all sentient beings, come to be called karmic consciousness, vast and obscure? Had you known earlier that the lamp was fire, the rice would have been cooked long ago.